


Collide

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John Watson, First Time, Injured John, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4266732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seems like John always follows Sherlock's lead, even with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collide

Sherlock Holmes was running full tilt, like usual. And, like usual, John Watson was only a few steps behind. They were going through a dilapidated warehouse near the river in pursuit of a murder suspect. Suddenly Sherlock stopped so fast that John collided into his back, sending them both stumbling forward an extra few steps.

“John,” whispered Sherlock in a panic, half a moment before the floor gave way beneath them.

Air, darkness, the smell of the Thames and then John splashed onto the wet, hard floor, swallowing a cry as his bad shoulder took the brunt of the impact.

“John, John, are you alright?” Sherlock was there a heartbeat later, large hands feeling John’s torso and limbs in the dark.

“Fine.” John batted away his hands and sat up, as pain spiked through his arm. He kept it close to his body in case it was dislocated.

As if Sherlock could see in the dark like a cat, he whipped off his scarf and made a makeshift sling. John hissed as he settled his arm and reached for Sherlock. “What about you?” He sounded no worse for wear, but he was also good at hiding injuries unless he wanted John to know.

“I rolled when I landed,” Sherlock said, helping John to his feet. Perhaps their hands lingered on one another a moment longer than strictly necessary. Neither of them mentioned it.

“Right, you’re the acrobatic git.” John stepped away and blinked as his eyes adjusted. They were clearly in some sort of basement. It seemed to be in the process of sinking into the river and the whole place smelled moldy and damp. John realized he was now weaponless. “Don’t suppose you saw where my gun went?”

“I did not, but give the standing water and the angle of this floor it’s quite likely to be making it’s way into the Thames right now.” Sherlock splashed away from him. With a sigh, John followed after, glancing up at the hole in the ceiling and knowing that there wouldn’t be an easy way to climb through that.

“We may have to swim,” announced Sherlock as he peered ahead of them.

“In the Thames? That’s not exactly healthy,” John eyed him.

Sherlock shrugged. “We’re both already wet.”

“If we’re swimming in the bloody Thames then you and I are both going to hospital afterward to get checked out.”

“You would have insisted on it any way given the distance we both fell. Even though I am perfectly fine.” Sherlock felt around the wall, clearly looking for a door. He glanced back at John. “I am sorry.”

John blinked. “What?”

“I should have realized the floor was unstable sooner.”

John shrugged and winced. “It happens, Sherlock. ‘Could be dangerous,’ remember? I know what I signed up for.”

Though he couldn’t see Sherlock’s face well in the dark, John would swear he saw a ghost of a smile. “Come along, and mind your steps.”

John carefully made his way to Sherlock. The floor definitely slanted here and the water quickly came up to John’s knees. “Sherlock…,” he said warningly.

“Just a little further.” There was a rusty squeal as a door opened. Sherlock led the way into a stairwell with a triumphant grin. “He we are, now let’s get back to street level.”

John shook his head and followed him up the concrete stairs, feeling wet, cold and at least slightly miserable. A spot of hot tea would go far right about now.

They reached the street and Sherlock summoned a cab with his usual aplomb. Borrowing the cabbie’s mobile, he quickly shot off a few texts. To John’s surprise they actually arrived at the A & E. He nudged Sherlock to return the cabbie’s phone and led the way inside.

**

Dawn was just breaking as they arrived back at Baker Street. John yawned. The shoulder wasn’t dislocated, but he’d been given some good pain meds and would have to take it easy for a few days. Sherlock caught his good arm as he stumbled in the doorway and steered him to the sofa. John didn’t even argue as he lay down, still fully dressed, and went right to sleep.

**

To his surprise, John woke to find a warm cup of tea and a plate of food on the coffee table. There was no sign of his flatmate. Sitting up gingerly, he swung his feet to the floor, gratefully taking a sip. His eyes landed on a gun, if not his exact gun, one very very close to it. Smiling softly he picked it up and held it in his hands a long moment before putting it back on the table and tackling the food.

**

It was dark again when Sherlock came back to the flat. John was puttering around, tidying a bit. He came out of the kitchen as Sherlock hung up his scarf and coat. Their eyes met across the flat. John thought he could get lost in those unreadable pools. Swallowing hard, he turned away. “Did you get everything sorted?” he asked.

“I did.” There was the sound of Sherlock moving around the flat and John started to retreat to the kitchen.

Suddenly Sherlock was there, behind him, those amazing bloody hands on his waist. “John.”

The soldier froze, still turned away. “Yes?”

Sherlock leaned down to breathe in the scent of him. John could feel his hot breath on his throat. “You keep watching me.”

The air seemed sucked from the room. “Do I? And...and what do you think I’m observing?”

Instead of answering, Sherlock’s hands moved from his hips and curled around John’s stomach.

A groan escaped John’s lips. “You’re brilliant Sherlock. Brilliant and gorgeous and…” He bit his lip.

“Do you think of me in the shower? I do know when you take showers that are longer than normal. And statistically you are more likely to do so when I am wearing certain clothes or showing a bit more skin.”

_Shit_. “You would notice that,” John said breathily.

“I notice many things.” Sherlock leaned in and nibbled on John’s earlobe. Groaning again, John’s knees nearly buckled. Sherlock supported him, moving him forward until he was bent over the kitchen table. 

That was definitely a healthy erection pressing against the crack of his arse.

“You switch,” said Sherlock with confidence as he reached for John’s belt. “But I do believe you’re rather enjoying my being in control at the moment.”

John started to push back but Sherlock kept him in place, pulling down his trousers and pants. John gasped as the cool air of the flat struck his skin. “You’re going to fuck me.”

“Indeed. How observant of you,” said Sherlock wryly.

Before John could give a proper retort, two slick fingers were pressing into him, driving a moan from John’s lips. Sherlock kept his hand on John’s back, mindful of the still sore shoulder, and fucked him open with his fingers. John’s forehead hit the table with a thunk as the fingers withdrew. “You’re a wicked man.”

“I have been called a few things,” remarked Sherlock, keeping his hand in place as he drew down his zip, the sound loud in the quiet flat.

_He is actually going to fuck me over this table,_ thought John, bracing his feet and leaning on his good arm. His cock twitched with anticipation, but he made no effort to touch himself, trusting that Sherlock would take care of him.

As Sherlock’s cock nudged against his arse, John sucked in a breath. “Relax,” murmured Sherlock, moving his hand to John’s hips and pushing his way in.

“God, Sherlock,” John groaned, pushing back against him. This was everything they had been building towards, every breathless chase, every quiet domestic moment, every laugh, every fight.

“Mine, John. You’re all mine,” Sherlock’s deep voice was a barely intelligible growl. He pushed in harder, pulling back and then sinking deeper, seeking the places that would make John moan. 

_Damn this observant bastard._ He was taking John apart as if they’d made love a thousand times before. A shift of Sherlock’s hips and John felt the pre-cum pulse from his own cock, body responding as if to silent commands, while his mind fogged over with with lust and pleasure.

Sherlock’s hips moved a little faster. One hand left John’s hip to wrap around his cock. John made a strangled noise halfway between crying and begging as Sherlock started to stroke.

There was no way John could last long like this. A twist of Sherlock’s wrist and he was coming, spilling onto the floor. Sherlock held his hips again and drove into him, coming with a soft grunt of his own.

Panting, Sherlock pulled out after a moment, pulling John to his chest. John turned in his arms and pulled him down for a kiss. Sherlock may have made the first step, but John was always right behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321). Thank you to beltainefaire for the read, and also conductoroftardislight and phiphiphosum475 for the support and listening to me stress out.


End file.
